Page 20 of The Faebound Trials (Mates and Madness: The Phantom Prince and The Bloodweaver #1)

I sobbed heavily, the sounds of my cries echoed around and it made me even more helpless.

I looked around once more, checking if they had found me.

My shoulders relaxed when I was sure I was alone.

My hands covered my face as I tried to hide my fear and distress. My hands trembled and I only realized it now.

Luckily, I was alone in the field.

I gazed upon the rows and rows of flowers. It was never ending.

An infinite stretch of flowers bloomed across the entirety of the field.

The sweet and fresh scent of flowers lingered and I breathed it in.

Up in the sky, the clouds moved through the wind, a gentle breeze whipped my hair and hummed a delicate lullaby.

I finally stopped sobbing.

The sun calmed me, deviating my attention to the borrows of the soothing warmth on my skin.

I wanted to lay down on the wreckage of my fall but a part of me knew I’d ruin the rest of the flowers around me if I did.

If I hadn’t run… If I wasn’t able to get away… What would’ve happened to me?

I let out a sigh, I felt my ribs or maybe a bruise beginning to form at my side and I winced at the pain.

I stood up, still wary of my surroundings, on guard, and ready to run the minute I’d see one of those men again.

And when I breathed in, my eyes fell on a silhouette of someone when I emerged from the flowerbed.

As soon as I recognized the person, I calmed down.

His eyes softened at the slightest of my movements.

There was something in his eyes that resembled a yearning stare one would give to a lost lover, or a forgotten love.

And in those eyes, there was something else… Crave, hunger, thirst for something more.

Something, someone had lost.

My eyes followed the dance of his pale silver hair, gleaming like dazed mercury or iron steel under the glare of the gentle sun.

Would he let me touch his hair if I asked him?

The breeze casted a soft glow over his sharp, hauntingly beautiful face that reminded me of lores passed down to describe a being as ethereal as the moonlight whispers of the spellbinding runes of Ancient Enara.

He walked slowly, the wind billowing wildly as he threaded the distance between us.

And I waited. And for no reason. It was primal.

Instinct.

An emotion I was too familiar with glazed his eyes, he stopped and stared at my face lovingly.

The corners of his eyes were soft, the way he looked at me was so similar to longing.

Then melancholy caresses his fixed gaze on me.

I broke away from the stare as I tried to look around but my full attention was on him.

His silence enveloped us whole.

Then when I glanced at him, I saw how anger flashed in his eyes, fury made his shoulders tense as he seethed in suppressed rage.

I attempted to cover the wounds dressing my arms, dried blood had settled on my skin, even my cheeks were covered in mud, dust, and crumpled leaves and petals.

“You’re hurt.” His voice almost quivered in pain. Worry in his eyes.

Why did he sound more hurt than I was?

His eyes were gentle and soft but he trembled in anger.

His eyes narrowed a darker shade as he examined my wounds, my state.

He was mad.

Mad.

I didn’t know what to say so I let silence sit in the air.

“Who was it?”

“What?” My voice sounded so small. And I hated it.

“Who hurt you?”

“I…”

“Who did this to you?” His voice was much more forceful now but there was gentleness in it. Though he sounded more desperate, as if he was begging for me to name a person. “Don’t lie to me. I heard your cries. Tell me. Say it. Who did this to you?” Controlled anger had settled in his nerves.

“I fell.”

“Liar,” he said, almost spitting the word.

But I did fall before escaping them.

And besides, I didn’t know their names. I could point them out but this was mine.

This was my fight.

“Why do you care so much?”

Pain flickered in his eyes as he harshly looked away from me for the first time. He never once did that; avoid my gaze, first to cut the connection in our locked eyes.

My words hurt him. But why?

Then I started getting itchy.

The overwhelming urge to scratch my arm overtook my attention.

My hands scratched my arm, then it became worse.

I was gentle at first at scratching my arm but the itch wouldn’t go away.

Every second, the itch was becoming unbearable.

A burning sensation from the relentless scratching had blinded me.

I scratched my arms harshly, and I was shocked when he pulled me away from my arm.

Blood pooled on the wound from my scratch.

“What are you doing? You’re hurting yourself.”

Then I started sneezing, and I sneezed until I couldn’t breathe anymore.

“What is happening?”

He touched the petals that had stuck to my arms.

Blue violet petals bright against his palm.

His eyes were wide in realization.

“Bonbell. You’re allergic to Bonbell.”

He was quick to move as he swept me off my feet and carried me like a princess in Lera’s fairytales.

And while I was in his arms, his huge hands were enough to cuff my hands from hurting myself from scratching.

I screamed because the itch and the pain burned.

I felt like dying. The itch had found my neck, and it gnawed at the base of my throat.

My eyes were stinging from the reaction of my skin to the crumpled petals of the Bonbell flower.

My whole body was now burning and the overwhelming urge to scratch my whole body crawled to my bones.

I was heaving and hyperventilating.

I was sneezing non stop.

My head pounded, my body had become heavier and rigid from the allergic reaction.

The fields were becoming a haze.

I leaned on his chest as he ran, carrying me delicately in his arms.

The sneezing had finally stopped but the burning sensation remained.

My eyes were shutting down as he softly placed me on the bed.

His voice boomed as he commanded orders to the servants.

His ghostly pale silver hair was wild and messy as he distraughtly pushed the servants to move and do something.

It was a funny scene before I plunged into the cold darkness.